A Necklace of Water by Cate Tiernan Read Free Book Online Page A

looked like it had been a department store back in the thirties. Huge glass windows overlooked the street, and the interior hinted at what it might have looked like eighty years ago, with pressed-tin ceilings painted a dark copper color, ceiling fans on long poles, all connected to each other by pulleys, and tall columns supporting a roof that must have been eighteen or twenty feet high.
    Inside, all the way to the right, was the coffee shop, with its small square black tables and old-fashioned library chairs. Each table had a green-shaded banker’s lamp, and the whole place was wi-fi, which explained all the students with laptops.
    In the middle section, right when you came in, was a small area with funky clothes, bookshelves lined with all kinds of alternative books, and other shelves with candles, incense, herbs, and oils.
    To the far left was a smaller section, less well lit, with more shelves of books. These were more serious, books about witchcraft and voodoo, with detailed information on herbs and stars and the tarot. These were for scholars, people who practiced the craft. The books out front were more for dabblers, people who were curious but not necessarily serious.
    At the back of the darker section was an area that was actually restricted. Two rows of bookcases faced each other, with a gold cord across the opening and a sign saying that no one under eighteen was allowed in.
    It was easy to duck under.
    After the rite, I’d been so upset about Daedalus and what I should do. I couldn’t believe Clio didn’t feel the same way. But my huge emotions had boiled down into one cold, coherent thought: revenge. I was here to figure out what form that revenge could take. After seeing Luc, I’d thought about doing something like that, only permanent. But Daedalus didn’t seem like he would care about his looks much. Daedalus was all about power.
    So I wanted to take his away from him.
    Of course, I had no idea how to pull it off. As Clio had pointed out just yesterday, I wasn’t a trained witch. I did have some power, and Clio and I together had tons of power, but she’d made it clear I would be doing this alone. This was my first recon trip—I needed to do research, figure out what was involved. If there was anything that I could do now, I would. If it was something that would take years of training, well, I probably had the time.
    The books on these shelves looked older, beat up, as if their lives had been hard. Who knew how many generations of witches had used these books and for what purposes? They were loosely organized, but nothing was labeled
Dark Magick (Revenge).
    I started pulling things out. There were books about garden spells, crop spells, spells that used the moon phases, spells based in herbs or crystals or other tools. A few of the books had spells that seemed kind of dark—like how to make your neighbor’s crop fail while yours thrived. But nothing seemed big enough, specific or ruthless enough.
    One by one I examined titles, and again and again I had to stop myself from getting lost in something fascinating that didn’t relate to my mission. There was a whole book about how women could use spells in conjunction with their monthly cycles, drawing on their changing power. Who knew if that was real or not, but it would be so awesome to read. I had to flip through as many books as possible before someone kicked me out. Next month I would be eighteen, but they probably didn’t care about that today.
    Finally I saw a book with
Beware
written on its spine in faded, flaking gold leaf. I pulled it out carefully and opened it, half expecting its pages to crumble into dust in front of me. In fact, inside, its ink was so faded that I could barely make out words on the pages. Frustrated, aware of time ticking by, I rifled the pages with my thumb, wishing that suddenly one page would be totally clear and exactly what I needed.
    Which didn’t happen. All that happened was a small piece of folded paper